The Miting (3 page)

They worked in silence a few more minutes. “I heard Martha might leave. Do you ever think of doing that?”

Leah glanced away, afraid her expression might reveal too much. Leaving home meant leaving the church, something almost impossible to contemplate. It meant breaking all ties to family and friends and community and bearing the weight of condemnation as the wayward child of John Raber. And
Daet
would suffer, too. Having a child leave the faith automatically lowered the status of the parents in the church community. The knowledge that she would bring such a heavy burden down on her family sat like a stone in Leah’s stomach. She recalled the sermons she’d heard: The Devil with his hand on a wayward child’s shoulder. The evil in the outside world. The fear of knowing her eternal damnation as soon as she traded her
kapp
for flowing hair and English ways. It all brought home to her the cost of leaving.

“I don’t know, Ada. It would be terrible to do that to our parents. We’ve seen what happens when young people leave. I shudder to think of being under the
meidning
—not being welcome at home anymore.”

Ada’s eyes swerved to hers. “The miting! You
have
thought of leaving.”

“Ada, I didn’t say that. I have no plans to leave.”

She shouldn’t be having this conversation. The very thought of leaving all she cherished twisted her heart. Leah glanced at her sister as she bent over the laundry basket, the grass touching the hem of Ada’s skirt. A shaft of sunlight illumined her sister’s browned arms, and a lofting breeze tickled a tendril of chestnut hair along her neck. A swallow dipped and trilled his way over their heads, and an almost painful desire for this moment to last forever flared in her being. No. She could never leave. Not her family. Not her life.

Ada spoke, snapping Leah back to the soft summer day that wrapped around them.

“
Maem
would never put you under the miting anyway. She loves her kids too much. But Henry Miller would have no trouble doing it.” Ada grimaced, rolling her eyes. Leah ignored the sarcasm directed at their church bishop.

Henry had been a staunchly religious man before he was chosen as bishop, but since that time, his relentless adherence to the
Ordnung
had intensified dramatically, and so had the burden on his church. In exacting strict piety, the bishop declared he was only trying to follow the
Ordnung
, though Leah wondered if he sometimes enjoyed the privations he put on his group. Whatever his motives, he certainly wasn’t popular with his people.

The clothes all hung, Leah picked up the empty laundry basket, trapping its woven fibers against one hip as she made her way back toward the house. “Anyway, it’s not going to be something you’ll ever have to endure, right, Ada? And I don’t have any notions about leaving, either. As for Martha, well, who knows about her?”

The sun had barely risen over the hills Monday morning when Leah pushed open the back screen door. It banged shut behind her.

The sharp, fresh-cut smell of lumber greeted her in the shop. A customer was coming by early to check out the progress on his bedroom furniture.
Daet
was polishing the footboard to the sleigh bed he’d created, ensuring the finish color was perfect. He glanced up as Leah strolled to the desk.

“
Morgen.
Ready for a busy day?”

“
Ja
, sure,” Leah said, glancing down at
Daet
’s hands as he rubbed a tack cloth across the footboard to remove the smallest dust particle. His large-knuckled, hard-working hands.
Daet
provided for his family, never shirking his duty as father and protector. His face was lined from years of outdoor work. His eyes, though mature, still had the ability to sparkle with fun, and his deep laugh echoed in her memory. She wondered what her father had been like as a child before the responsibility of family had come. Did her grandmother soothe away his tears when he fell? Did he play like Benny did with the chickens—running to and fro without a care in the world? Her gaze softened at the thought of her father as a vulnerable child.

When he was finally satisfied with his work, he carefully stood the headboard against the wall, examining every surface for flaws.

“What do you want me to do first,
Daet
?”

“I’d like you to add up Ben Hochstetler’s bill. He owes me some yet, but I haven’t had the chance to get it figured out, and you’re better at it than I am anyway. It’s this one … uh … let me find it … yes, this one here.”

He shoved a worn piece of paper across the desk to her, his stained fingers marking another smudge on the wrinkled corner. Leah positioned the bill in a ray of sunlight streaming through the back windows of the shop and from overhead.
Daet
had installed gas lines for winter lighting, but for the summer, he fitted rows of solar tubes in the ceiling. The light flooding through them reflected brightly over the center length of the wood shop. Most days, sun was all that was needed to see properly.

Leah copied a line of numbers onto a sheet of scratch paper and totaled the sums. She then waded through a lopsided pile of paper bits
Daet
had used to record the work he’d done for Hochstetler. Discovering the customer still owed two hundred dollars, she showed
Daet
the tally.

“That much, eh?”

“Yes, but he’s paid steadily, so I don’t think you’ll have any trouble collecting the rest. It may take him some time, though, now that they’ve added twins to their family.”

The bell over the shop door jingled, disturbed by an English man who entered, smiling broadly under his summer cap. To Leah’s amazement, he greeted
Daet
in Pennsylvania-Dutch.

“This is Matthew Schrock,” Daet explained. “He’s the fellow who ordered the cherry bedroom set. Matthew, this is my daughter, Leah.”

“Nice to meet you, Leah.” Matthew spoke in English. He politely shook her hand, his pleasant manner drawing her attention.

“Thank you. Nice to meet you.”

“Your
daet
does the finest work. He’s one of the best carpenters I know around here.”

“Yes, and he enjoys everything he crafts.”

“Ahh, that makes a man’s work more agreeable—enjoying the process as he goes.”

The bell jingled again, and in marched Bishop Miller.
Daet
immediately moved to greet him. Leah took note of her father’s tight smile as he observed the bishop’s gaze fixed on the
Englisher.

Matthew Schrock greeted the bishop as if he knew him, and Bishop Miller’s chilly nod verified the fact.

“He came to see the furniture I’m crafting for him, Bishop.”
Daet
pointed to the headboard. He shifted his eyes to Matthew and offered his hand. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll let you know when everything’s ready.”

Leah saw the
Englisher
’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed. He hesitated, then returned
Daet
’s handshake. “
Danke
, John. I’ll look forward to seeing your final work.” He nodded to the bishop and exited the shop quickly. Silence enveloped the room until the bishop cleared his throat.

“John, it’s good to see your business doing well.”

“
Ja
, it’s going well, thanks to God and the help He gives me in my labor.”

The bishop stroked his scraggly beard. “You’re doing work for the English now, John?”

“Here and there. Schrock stopped by one day when he noticed my sign.”

“Order much, did he?”

“
Ja
, a whole bedroom set—cherry.”

“Know much about him?” The bishop took off his hat and toyed with the brim.

Daet
paused before he answered, glancing toward Leah as he spoke. “Not much. He speaks Dutch.”

Bishop Miller scrutinized a polishing cloth lying nearby. He fingered it, then dropped the cloth into a heap on the shelf. Oily residue glimmered on the tips of his fingers. He took out his handkerchief and rubbed the oil off.

“Used to be Amish.”

A world of innuendo in the bishop’s declaration wasn’t lost on Leah. Implications hung heavy in the air. Just as the bishop opened the door to leave, he turned back. “Schrock left the Amish years ago—became a born-again Christian. He helps the
jungen
leave the Amish.”

Daet
nodded, his expression grave as he faced the bishop. “I’ll keep that in mind, Bishop Miller.” He glanced at Leah before returning to work.

That night, Leah propped her pillow against the windowsill. She gazed at the surrounding fields, a bystander watching the darkness spread over the land in slow measure. Its shadows smothered the rolling Ohio hills like a thick, velvety robe. The sounds of large and small creatures swelled in the summer night one last time before they went the way of the slumbering Amish surrounding them.

Her eyes were heavy, but her thoughts fastened on Bishop Miller’s last words:
he helps the
jungen
leave the Amish.

At breakfast, Leah lingered at the table longer than the rest. Once
Maem
returned to the kitchen after shooing Benny back to his room to wash his ears, she sat down across from her daughter to savor a second cup of morning coffee. Leah wanted answers.
Maem
might give them.

“Bishop Miller told
Daet
that Matthew Schrock is former Amish.”

Maem
sipped her coffee, offering no acknowledgment of Leah’s statement.

“He said Schrock helps
jungen
leave.”

Maem
pulled the saucer from the bottom of the cup and poured a little of the steaming liquid into it. She pursed her lips and blew across the surface of the coffee, then took a tentative sip, still ignoring Leah’s questions.

Leah persisted. “Have you heard that, too?”

Maem
set the saucer down hard enough to splash a drop of coffee onto the oilcloth table covering. She touched the drop, smearing the puddle in ever increasing arcs, and sighed.

“Why, Leah?
Why
do you want to know about a man like that?”

“I … don’t know. But Bishop Miller was angry at Matthew, even though I thought he was a nice man. Matthew was friendly and talked about how much he appreciates
Daet
’s work.”

Maem
glanced down, pulling at her apron to straighten it before finally answering.

“It would be better for you not to ask anything about him.” She tilted her head, gazing at a spot over Leah’s shoulder. “But on second thought, maybe you should know what he does in case Martha ever tries to get you to go along with her—though I’m pretty sure Martha won’t be going to a Bible study. Still …” She fixed her gaze on Leah. “He says he hosts Bible studies, but what he really does, according to what I’ve heard, is pressure the Amish kids to leave. He gives them worldly jobs to keep them out.”

“Bible study?”

“Not only that, he sometimes takes in Amish people who have run away from their faith. He helps them stay away from their people. But he and his wife are blinded, Leah. They know the truth and have decided to reject it. You know what happens to people who have rejected the truth.”

“What’s wrong with a Bible study,
Maem
?” Leah was truly puzzled. From the way Bishop Miller had spoken yesterday, she’d suspected Schrock was kidnapping Amish youth. Holding Bible studies and taking in runaways didn’t seem terrible.

Maem
waved her hand. “Of course, learning Scripture is not a bad thing, but placing an interpretation on it that our forefathers haven’t sanctioned
is
bad. He has rejected all he knows, and his wife has, too. That, in itself, is sinful.”

“But why,
Maem
?”

“Why? You know why. If the good Lord sees fit for a person to be born Amish, they have to die Amish in order to go to heaven.”

“Matthew seems like a good man, though. He doesn’t seem evil at all.”

“Leah—”
Maem
sighed and stood up. “Please, just trust me with this. You ask too many questions, and you’ll get yourself and everyone else all stirred up. With this, you have to listen to us.
Please.
” She looked into Leah’s eyes with a silent entreaty, then turned and poured a cup of coffee to take to
Daet.
The conversation was over.